


In the Shadows

by Stormraven24



Category: Constantine (TV), James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Crossover, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, eventual 00q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-10-20 11:54:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17621924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormraven24/pseuds/Stormraven24
Summary: A ritualistic killing of a politician has the Prime Minister on edge, calling on MI6 to keep it from happening again. However, the agency is wholly unable to handle such a case, so Q suggests an outside consultant.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest: I don't know what this is or where it's going or what I'm doing, I just really wanted Constantine to show up and sass James and hit on everyone and just...I just needed it, okay? I'm just making stuff up as I go and wanted this part out, even if I never visit it again. I have bits and pieces thought out, so we'll just see if they go anywhere. Tags and rating will be updated as I go.

“You must be joking.”

Tanner seemed to be the only one immune to 007’s glare, and that gift didn’t abandon him now. “Afraid not. Everything about this assassination, on its own doesn’t seem spectacular. But combined…” The other man sighed as if the mere act of thinking about the information in the folder in his hand was too exhausting. “I’m sorry, double-oh seven, I’m still trying to wrap my head around this myself. Perhaps it’d be best to let M explain himself.”

 _Bloody well ought to,_ Bond grumbled silently as he took the offered folder. He didn’t need to look at the contents inside as he made his way to M’s office; everything had already been burned into his mind.

Several people close to a minor politician dead, all from apparent freak accidents (a car crash, a tainted prescription, hit and run, even a crumbling piece of statuary in one instance), before the politician himself was found in his office. If the coincidental timing wasn’t enough to be suspicious, the missing tongue and three teeth and ritualistic carvings in his skin certainly pointed to foul play. Every sign pointed to assassination, but nothing as to why or who. The fear that without knowing a motivation or suspect behind the killing the assassin might strike at others of Parliament had the Prime Minister calling on MI6.

Why Bond was the lucky one to be saddled with such a mission was yet another mystery. The man in the olive coat perched on Moneypenny’s desk was another.

“I’m telling ya, love,” he was saying to a bemused-looking Eve, “you’ve never seen stars so bright as on the Day of Aberration. Lesser angels get all those pesky emotions out, but energy has to go somewhere, right? So, they aim it outward-“

“Double-oh seven!” Even cried out, seemingly thankful for the interruption. “Nice of you to join us.”

The stranger turned, fixing Bond with a look that seemed to be assessing, calculating. Bond was used to that, but it was the lazy roll off the desk and the loose-limbed not-quite-a-swagger that immediately put him on edge. “Ah, the infamous double-oh seven,” he said with a grin. “Heard that call sign a few times before. Never with any sort of fondness, though, I’m afraid. Might bode well for us in this case, however.”

Bond nearly recoiled. All the innocent posturing and light tone and polite friendliness was a façade, same as the one he himself wore in the field when necessary. He couldn’t explain why, but this man was dangerous. Extremely so.

“Bond?”

The concern in Eve’s voice registered, but nothing could shake his focus from the man now directly in front of him. Despite appearances, these were two apex predators sizing each other up, evaluating, plotting. The stranger broke eye contact first, extending a hand with casual civility. “Ah, but where are my manners. John Constantine, at your service.”

Bond barely glanced at the offered hand before addressing the woman behind the desk. “All right there, Eve?”

“Just fine, double-oh seven. This one outdoes even you with the flirting, though.”

Constantine dropped his hand and looked back at Eve, exaggerated hurt on his face. “Didn’t hear you complaining, love.”

Eve’s tone was ever professional, but that glint in her eyes promised at least a slap if the wrong thing was said. “Hard to hear much of anything when you don’t stop talking.”

“Ouch. That’s hurtful, Miss Moneypenny.” Bond didn’t recall making any kind of noise or motion, but Constantine turned back to him as if he could hear the thoughts of a swift death running through the agent’s head. The silence that dragged on between them was oppressive, cloying, just waiting to snap. Every hair on Bond’s neck and arms rose at the perceived threat; although, what threat this unarmed man posed had yet to be determined. Constantine seemed to come to some sort of conclusion after a few stifling moments, a single nod given in Bond’s direction. “Right, well, play time’s over. What say we get started on this bloody mess the PM wants kept in the dark, hm?”

Bond most certainly didn’t flinch when the door opened behind him. Absolutely not. Merely took a more solid stance…in case this was a second threat. Just in case.

Constantine, however, looked towards the door with marked interest. “Hello, hello. And what might your name be, love?”

A pause, one that spoke more than any words, before a familiar voice put at least some of Bond’s tension at ease: “You may call me Q, sir. I’m the Quartermaster of MI6.”

Either Constantine legitimately had no idea who James Bond was, or he truly was unconcerned with tripping any of his hunter’s instincts (Bond wasn’t sure which was worse) as he brushed past him towards Q. “Brains and beauty. After my own heart, aren’t you.”

The blatant flirtation had Bond clenching his teeth, turning to Q to gauge his reaction. Q seemed entirely unfazed. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope that combining our resources, we’ll be able to have this wrapped up in no time.”

“Then perhaps we can move on to more fun pursuits once business is concluded, my dear Q.”

Although Q didn’t move, didn’t even blink, Bond wanted nothing more than to insert himself between the men, to hide Q away until he could determine the exact nature of Constantine’s being. There was something _off_ about him, Bond just couldn’t pinpoint what. And the thought of Q being on the receiving end of that unknown threat…he couldn’t stop himself from taking a step towards the younger man even if he wanted to.

That got Constantine’s attention. “Something to say about that, _agent_?”

“Double-oh seven.” Q cut him off before he could even think about rebutting. “Please play nice with our new consultant.” He leaned in, his voice lowering to almost a whisper and tinged with something like…not quite fear, but more than apprehension. “We need him.” _Don’t scare him off_ was the clear warning. One look into Q’s eyes proved how serious the situation was; even when dealing with hardheaded agents just inches away from death and working with the fear of utter failure looming over him, Q never wavered, was never rattled. Now, he was. That was enough to have Bond take a step back.

“Mister Constantine,” M called from his doorway, expression unreadable. “If you’re quite done harassing my staff and goading my agent, let’s get started. Bond, Q.”

Q wedged past both men with a greeting to Eve and disappeared into M’s office, leaving Bond and Constantine to stare each other down once more. “Well then,” Constantine said first. “I think this will be a rather interesting job. Don’t you agree.”

Bond watched him turn and saunter after Q without waiting for an answer. Everything about that man set Bond’s hackles up, but he didn’t know _why._ It was infuriating.

“Please refrain from violence until you’re in the hallway, James,” Eve said quietly. “I’m not keen to try getting blood out of this dress.”

The attempt at humor was appreciated, but did nothing to ease Bond’s mind. “No promises.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that I still don't know wtf I'm doing and am literally making this up as I type :D I'm also too tired and mentally drained to proofread, so there might be a lot of typos and mistakes.

A vague promise of “consulting my books, among other bits and bobs” and a cheeky wink at Q (Bond refused to acknowledge the bristling that caused in him) saw John Constantine exiting the office less than an hour later, Tanner leading him past Eve’s desk and out the outer door as well. M was leveling a look of confused mild disgust at the card Constantine had handed him before leaving. “’Master of the Dark Arts,” he mused in a deadpan tone. “All right, I’ll say it,” he sighed as he tossed the card to the side. “The only reason that man was even allowed into this building is on your recommendation, Q. So how the bloody hell do you know him?”

Bond had been repeating that very question in his mind during the entire meeting. Q didn’t act as if he and Constantine were friends, had even had to introduce himself to him, but to have him actually vouch for the man…something wasn’t right.

To his credit, Q didn’t flinch away from M’s piercing stare. “Before I came to the attention of MI6, I dabbled in underground hacking. Implanting viruses in foreign governments’ servers, moving money around in corporations and stock exchanges.” Bond was surprised by this knowledge, but simultaneously not; Q could indeed bring nations to their knees with just a few keystrokes if he so chose. M, however, didn’t seem taken aback. “What wasn’t included in my file is that I also came across some…less technical places of the dark web. The crowd I would run with wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up, as it were, and some of them liked to experiment with more arcane practices. The occult, magic, sorcery, no matter what you call it it’s all the same.” Q must have sensed the disbelief coming from the other two men, but Mallory kept a tight lid on his expression, keeping perfectly neutral if a bit perturbed. He paused, but only long enough to take a breath. “They all thought it was all good fun, that none of it was serious and that they only did it for shock value. One of them, though…she took it a bit too far.

“Marie had found a spell meant to summon a demon. One that would hunt down whomever she told it to. Despite reservations from the rest of us, she went ahead with the spell. She’d managed to summon it in a chatroom, of all places, during an online argument. Only she didn’t know it had worked until news broke the next day. The person she’d been arguing with had been found dead at his computer, ligature marks on his neck and burns on his fingers. The computer had looked like it had been thrown into a fireplace.”

M maintained his stoic expression (what was going through the man’s head?), while Bond was torn between wanting to protest the whole thing as bullshit and asking more about the demon and the summoning ritual itself. Both stayed quiet, however, waiting for Q to continue.

“I don’t know how she came to realize she now had control over a proper demon, or how it seemed relegated to computers and the web…Constantine had said it was likely because the spell was typed rather than spoken…all we knew was that she sent it after anyone she had even a mild disagreement with online.”

“Why only online?” M interrupted, not unkindly. “Why not those she fought with in the real world?”

Q gave him a look that hinted at exasperation, though it was quickly hidden under a layer of professional deference to one’s boss. “We weren’t exactly the most social people, sir. Many of us seemed to only exist online. Away from computers, we tended to avoid anyone and everyone we could. Marie was on the more extreme end of that: only leaving the house when absolutely unavoidable, and even then, never for long, certainly not long to build any kind of animosity.”

“So how did Constantine come into the picture?” Bond was getting antsy to get to the point, to know more about the man that had rubbed him wrong from the get-go.

“We were contacted by someone who had heard about the deaths, who was able to trace us. Digital security in the 90’s really was abysmal. Anyway, he suggested someone who would be able to handle the demon but would need tech experts since it was contained to the digital world. Only four of us took the chance that he might have been legitimate and not simply some other sick fiend looking for some twisted fun. We met at the summoner’s place, barged in, and Constantine…”

Here, Q paused. He seemed to become momentarily lost in the memory, as if he wished to not remember it at all but had to. His brows met over the rim of his glasses, eyes going distant and head lowering. “It was a nightmare. She’d fought us, of course, but the more she fought the stronger the demon seemed to become. Sir…I know it sounds insane and you’ll want to put me under psych watch…I _saw_ something come out of that monitor. It tried to come out of our own laptops, but it was focused on her computer. That was where it had lived while it killed. Constantine…he put the demon back, or killed it, or…whatever it is he does with them, though not before it strangled Marie. Constantine seemed rattled, but he kept the rest of us from losing our minds that night. He’d assured us the demon was gone, told us to go home and he’d call the police to collect the body. None of us heard from him or the one who contacted us again.”

Silence set in over the office, deeper and more consuming than any before it, each man lost in his own thoughts. Hours seemed to pass before M spoke up: “What made you suggest Constantine for this? The only similarity between then and now is the number of deaths. Those could have been written off as random accidents with relatively new technology; this one certainly bears signs of ritual.”

Q straightened ever-so-slightly, eyes clearing and voice becoming more even. “After the…incident, the others vowed off the darkweb and any talk of occult. I did some digging on Constantine, though. He’d tried some online marketing at the time as a demonologist and amateur exorcist. It was rather appalling, really. More digging revealed he actually did know what he was doing, for the most part. It’s rather difficult to forget things like. The moment I saw the photos of the crime scene, I remembered him.”

“Do you think he truly can help, Q?” Bond asked softly. Trying to process everything that had happened in such a short amount of time was exhausting and frustrating, but if Q had good faith in the odd man…

“I do,” was the immediate answer. No hesitation whatsoever. It struck home for Bond that the double-ohs didn’t have that faith exclusively, something he had taken some amount of pride in; jealousy threatened to rear its head at knowing Q’s trust extended beyond MI6, as ridiculous as it was to be jealous at all.

“I don’t like this. Any of it.” M let that settle for a beat before continuing. “But at this point, I’ll trust your judgment, Q. The moment Constantine oversteps, however…”

He didn’t need to finish the thought; the threat was apparent. “Understood, sir,” Q said flatly.

“Bond, you’ll provide any field support Constantine requires. If this man has half the enemies Q says he does, he’ll need it.” A glance at Q revealed nothing. Bond would certainly ask him about _that_ later. “We’ll continue to monitor the investigation. Q will stay in contact with Mister Constantine and direct the mission as necessary. You brought him in, you’re responsible for him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Go prepare, both of you.” He took up the card again as both men made their way out, once more giving it a look of extreme prejudice. “’Master of the Dark Arts’, indeed.”


End file.
